


visitations.

by pussmonger



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24577255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pussmonger/pseuds/pussmonger
Summary: some forces may visit you in the night; some restrictions may not apply.
Relationships: Eris Morn/Female Guardian (Destiny), Eris Morn/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	visitations.

Her eyes strain against the searing starlight.

Something tells her she’s seen this before but when she averts her gaze she finds only more flaring white light in all directions. It moves. It _burns_. Her eyes can’t adjust, not when the ichor thick void flickers with the direction of her gaze. It doesn’t take long before her vision distorts and her head strains with an incomprehensible migraine. 

She lets out a sound of agony, trying to press the heel of her palms into the socket of her eyes but finds no respite nor balm, only distorted starlight dancing in the dark. She sobs pitifully, unable to block out the light. 

“There you are,” she hears a voice and knows the sound of contempt. It’s a presence manifesting around her, she thinks as she cannot see through the heels of her palms dug into her eyes. Tears have welled and wet her palms; she doesn’t dare remove them. Doesn’t dare to see this new adversary that’s crawled it’s way through the deep recess of space to torment her. Her teeth grind and her body shakes and she knows a fear so inevitable that there is no surrender - only sovereignty.

There’s a whisper, a deep sound of displeasure. She’s failed its evaluation. 

A ghost of a touch sends her recoiling away but there’s another at her front to steady her, guide her back into its awaiting touch. The gesture is not kind - it is a _mockery_ , and she feels the hostility of its phantom touch. 

“There’s no need for fear now. Nothing will ever be able to harm you again.” It says in a disquieting voice. 

She refuses to speak to it - refuses to look.

Its thumb draws a line between her shoulder blades as it speaks. She can’t ignore the way it tries to mimic comfort, this enemy of theirs. All she wants is its hands off of her, yet its presence is curled around her form as it tries to imitate something intimate with her.

“You poor, pitiful creature. You awoken to a home you had long forgotten, a home that had long forgotten you. Your people lost your solar system centuries ago, yet they still desperately grasp what forgotten familiarity they can protect. 

“But they forget: you are a dead thing, made by a dead power, in the shape of the dead. All you will ever do is kill.”

Its hand now rests along the length of her shoulders, so huge in comparison to her body.

“What do you want from me?” She’s pleading now. 

“You killed my son,” it seethes and now she understands. The grip at the back of her neck tightens to excruciating pain, bone threatening to be crushed under its weight.

* * *

She gasps, jolted from the dream so abruptly that she is still going through the motions of asking a question she does not remember asking. “What?” She asks, searching the room even as hands hold her gently down. “ _What?_ ” She cries.

Eris lets out a noise of distress before descending upon the smaller woman. She desperately bundles the woman in her arms and holds her close. “It’s okay. He can’t harm you. Not here, not now–” she nearly sobs. It’s the most frightened she’s ever seen Eris. 

“That was–”

“ _Oryx._ ”

Dread washes over her, even as her own arms find their way around Eris. They’ve never been this close to one another, not even in their sleep.

She doesn’t know what to say – doesn’t want to say anything at all. She feels exhausted and petrified as Eris’s concern confirms that it hadn’t been a dreamt encounter. Whatever monster that had been was real and had come for her and nearly took her. Now, she knows the hive has a vendetta. 

The room is still dark. It can’t be nearly morning, not yet – she feels as though she’s only gotten a few hours of deep sleep but not enough, leaving her eyes burning with exhaustion. Her eyes could also be burning from the tears welling in them and she’s reminded of how petrified she is.

“Are you okay?” She whispers, turning her head deeper into Eris’s shoulder.

“No,” Eris mutters awfully. She takes a deep, shaking breath before she continues. “I felt his hold on you. I tried to get you out sooner, but he is infinitely more powerful than Crota. I was afraid –” Eris cuts off abruptly, unable to continue the thought. 

They don’t speak further. Later they will lie down again on their shared mattress, but they won’t be able to sleep. Tonight they will sleep closer than they have ever before, the hunter keeping a hand on the warlock’s, to know that she is still there and not taken. In the morning she will fly out with her fireteam and leave Eris behind, approaching the dreadnought that the Taken King had flown in on. For now, they will remain the way they are for a while longer, Eris holding her while she gently runs her hand along Eris’s back.

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey! thank you for reading! I'm not much of a writer but I hope you enjoyed :)


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